


Head-splitting Hearts

by QuillFeathers



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), but it's newish, of course it’s fluffy I wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22770697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillFeathers/pseuds/QuillFeathers
Summary: He knew—and so did Felix—the signs of these long-lasting and intense headaches. But he had chosen to be stubborn...--Dimitri's headaches linger. Felix hovers.(written for dimilix week 2020 Day 4: duty)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 26
Kudos: 117





	Head-splitting Hearts

Dimitri is counting to the painful drumbeat of his pulse in his head when there's a knock at the door.

The bedchamber of the royal suite is dark, the curtains drawn shut to keep out as much light as the heavy black material allows. Behind the drapes the sun has maybe reached its highest point of the day, or maybe it's finally starting to drift lower in the sky, or maybe it's only been an hour and it's not even midday yet.

Maybe if his saints-forsaken head would stop pounding Fódlan's king could actually still make it out to greet Lorenz and whatever other old Alliance lords had traveled with him, having surely arrived by now.

The door opens.

“Dedue?” Dimitri calls out, moving to sit up blearily from where he's been laying on his back in the bed. The cloth that had been covering his eye slips away as he rises, and he wants to squint against the tiny wavering flame of the single candle that's lit on the desk across the room. Scrunching the muscles of his face only strengthens the throbbing in his head though, so he settles for blocking the light with a raised hand instead.

“It's me.”

It is certainly Felix's form in the doorway, but Dimitri does catch a glimpse of Dedue's much larger one before the door is shut.

He forces himself to look straight ahead. “Is something wrong?”

Felix scoffs. He likely rolls his eyes, too. “Glad to know my presence still implies that something is wrong.”

Dimitri starts to shift to the edge of the mattress, thankful he hadn't bothered to remove any of his clothes besides his boots, jacket, and belt. “Of course not. I am s—”

“I didn't mean— _sarcasm_ , Dimitri.” Felix cuts in, coming into the room. “Don't get up.”

Dimitri doesn't. Mostly because sitting up alone had been a bad idea, his stomach giving a queasy lurch.

It has been months since he has suffered a headache so strong, something like half a year. But that knowledge had only made his anxiety worse at the first hints that it had been coming on that morning. Blurry vision before he'd read a single document and the drumming at the side of his head. Nausea before he had finished getting dressed.

He knew—and so did Felix—the signs of these long-lasting and intense headaches. But he had chosen to be stubborn, and Felix had gotten up first. Hadn't seen Dimitri before it was too late. Dimitri had vomited, after breakfast, and possibly the only kindness the morning had offered him was that it had been Felix who rounded the corner of the hall next and not some poor staff member or knight.

Everyone (that being Felix, Dedue, and Ingrid) had ordered him to bed.

Two years ago Dimitri would not have listened. Would have stayed on his feet stubbornly until he couldn't stand upright anymore, but he was aware enough now to know that it only wounded himself and others more if he let himself reach that point.

He watches half-attentively as Felix deposits a tray of what is surely tea on the bedside table. Forces tension from his shoulders while hot water is poured over whatever concoction of herbs is in the pot. A blend whose purpose is to relax muscles and in general, to calm. Dimitri is fairly sure that no one will tell him the full recipe because then he could potentially brew it himself, and therefore potentially attempt to hide the fact that he was suffering.

Not that he presses the issue anymore, but it's amusing that the castle staff fear angering Duke Fraldarius more than the king.

Dimitri does not particularly enjoy the feast that commemorates the end of the war. The extra work involving readying the capital is one thing, writing and giving the speech another, but how the _talk_ revolves around it—all the retelling of stories—that is the worst.

There are too many tales that he does not like to hear repeated.

He truly hopes his dwelling mind will continue to rest easier as the years pass.

It has been almost two years, to the day, that—

“Dimitri.” Felix clears his throat loudly, and Dimitri blinks. He's still looking at the tray on the table but Felix is standing in front of him now, arms crossed. Waiting.

It has been almost two and a half years since Felix had started calling him by his name again.

Dimitri looks up, “What time is it?” asked with a weak grin.

In the faint light he can still distinctly make out Felix's raised eyebrow. “Still light out. Gloucester and the rest of them are getting settled and we have at least three hours until supper.”

Dimitri frowns, legs shifting. “I should make some sort of brief appearance before then.”

Felix predicts this, a pair of hands finding his shoulders, pushing insistently. “Lay back down.”

Six months ago Dimitri would have resisted. Not budged an inch past the initial give of his frame. Now he hesitantly lets himself be nudged back against the headboard.

Light glints off Felix's unconvinced, stern glare.

It's a stark contrast to the soft press of lips to Dimitri's own after he finally sighs in resignation. It's such a brief kiss that he doesn't even shut his eye, but he still leans forward slightly to chase the gesture.

Felix pulls away with a small smirk, turning to pick up the teapot. “Will you drink this? It's not that hot.” 

Unfortunately for Felix, teasing him is a good distraction from the pain. “I thought you wanted me to lay back down?

“Don't be difficult,” and it's a shame that it's too dark to really see any color on his cheeks, but the shy shift of his feet is enough. “I just want you to be...comfortable.”

Five months ago, Dimitri had kissed Felix (after Dimitri had _asked_ ), pulling away sheepishly only to immediately get lost in the shade of red that had contrasted so beautifully with Felix's hair in the early morning light. Felix had stormed off without another word to him. He'd been leaving for Fraldarius lands anyway, but afterwards Dimitri had suffered four days of headaches in a row.

Dimitri feels the corner of his mouth quirk upward, just a bit. “I will drink it. Thank you.”

He taps a finger against Felix's hand as he takes the offered cup.

Felix tsks at him.

While Dimitri drinks, his adviser moves about the room's shadow like he owns it just as much as Dimitri does, which is true enough. He busies himself rereading a stack of letters that he'd seen the night before, tugs at the curtains uselessly because there's no changing the light that creeps in at the edges, and pointedly doesn't meet Dimitri's gaze when he comes back over to take the cloth from his lap, finally disappearing into the washroom to draw hot water.

It's odd, watching Felix hover. Others have told Dimitri that he had been doing so for _years_. Dimitri had just been blind to it.

He had always admired Felix’s ability to be honest in his words (jealous, even). He'd been baffled, therefore, when it had come to light that it was actually in regards to Dimitri (or rather, Felix's real feelings _toward_ him) where he held himself back.

Four months ago, Felix had kissed Dimitri, and Dimitri had been so caught up in surprise _again_ —stared so long _again_ —that Felix had nearly stormed off _again_. But three strides away he'd pulled Dimitri's letter from his pocket and returned to shove it at his chest, and Dimitri did not let him take another single step away.

Dimitri flutters his gaze closed, breathing in the scent of the tea. Chamomile and lavender are the main ingredients, and the smell is pleasant.

“Have you thrown up again?”

Felix has once more snuck up beside the bed without him noticing, the rewarmed cloth clutched in one hand.

Dimitri’s eye cracks back open immediately. “No. I will just eat lightly at supper. The kitchen staff know about these bouts well enough, it will not offend.”

“And Ingrid said you refused something to make you sleep?”

“You know my sleep would not be restful right now.”

They merely look at each other for a moment. Dimitri's head does certainly still hurt, but if he could convince Felix to go with him to meet the other lords he's sure he could keep his feet under him...

Felix's arms cross again, shaking his head. One foot tapping against the floor and reading Dimitri's thoughts. “Sleeping would stop you from prioritizing unimportant things above your own health. Just serve Lorenz's favorite tea tomorrow to thank him. I'm sure he'd rather not have to cover for you teetering on your own damn feet.”

An unfair play. Dimitri does not want to be a burden. Felix knows this well.

And Felix must see something on his face, sighing to the ceiling and letting his arms drop. “Rest here for a while longer. Dedue's not letting anyone else into the room.”

At that Dimitri raises an eyebrow. “You do not have to sequester yourself here until supper. Go beat your lingering annoyance with myself and the lords out on a training dummy.”

“I am perfectly aware that I do not _have_ to do anything right now,” Felix counters. “Lay down,” and there’s a slight heavy pause, their gazes holding each other. “Please?”

Another unfair play. Dimitri almost always does what Felix asks.

They have found that this goes both ways.

Four months and one less day ago, Dimitri took Felix up to the roof of the castle as if they were children again. Just to talk. Ingrid had given them the scolding of a decade when she'd spotted them from astride her pegasus almost two hours later.

Handing the remaining tea off, Dimitri returns to his previous position on his back. His face warms slightly when Felix lays the damp cloth over his brow, angled just enough to block Dimitri's vision. The change in temperature—not just from the cloth—loosens the tension in his forehead instantly.

The relief threatens to not last long, though. Dimitri can feel Felix's presence lingering after the clink of the cup being set down fades. He starts to reflexively reach up to uncover his face.

But another set of fingers clutches at his own, the bed dipping with more weight accompanied by a firm “Move over.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Staying with you. Or convincing your stubborn ass to stay, whichever you prefer.”

Three months ago, Felix came to Dimitri's door and replied to his question of 'is something wrong' with 'absolutely nothing'—and then dragged him to bed.

Felix settles beside him, sitting up against the headboard. A leg presses against the side of Dimitri's torso, their intertwined hands falling to his chest.

“Is it working?” Felix asks his silence, a still-booted foot nudging him gently.

Dimitri rolls to his side, hiding his face against the plane of Felix's thigh and throwing an arm over his outstretched legs. The wet cloth falls away, but like this it is only his bad eye that is exposed. He is still shielded; by Felix.

Felix does not move despite both their hands now being smothered between them.

It has taken them much too long to reach this point. To get to this.

Felix doesn't say anything else, either, but after a few minutes his free hand finds its way into Dimitri's hair, combing slowly through it and soothing out a deep sigh.

Today, Dimitri's head hurt.

His heart, little by little, not so much so.

**Author's Note:**

> random little hc of mine: Dimitri wanting to see or feel Felix as opposed to just hearing his voice
> 
> twitter: [@o3QuillFeathers](https://twitter.com/o3QuillFeathers)


End file.
